Independence Day...

As I survey the dreary skies this holiday weeekend, I can't help but think about the Bridgeton 4th of July parade. Will it carry on despite the ever present threat of showers? The boy scouts with their decorated bikes riding past, feeling cool to be a boy scout for the first time. The giant Schnucks shopping cart with the huge engine that makes me hold my ears when it revs up. I remember the year that they threw fresh produce off of the cart. We caught an eggplant. I was mezmoriezed by this large purple vegetable that had flown from the sky, and I couldn't imagine how it would taste. I think it was the only eggplant that ever graced our home. There's the Pattonville marching band, and pom squad, and cheerleaders, and all of the poor little girls from pom camp that thought marching in a parade would be cool, even in the stifling heat and humidity that St. Louis is faithful to bring each fourth of July. As they stumble past now you can see in their eyes they feel they've made a huge mistake after the first block. We see them as the parade is almost over and inevitably there is a red faced woman with water trying to make sure the little ones don't collapse.
Then there is the church float that has Jesus. It never fails to shock me as I try to stifle my giggles as he and his devoted followers float past. Sometimes he even has blonde hair. Priceless.
There are the clowns that come out of nowhere who still scare me to this day. They don't really do anything but wave with their painted on grins and blank staring eyes, and come dangerously close to trying to give me a hug or shake my hand or something horrifiying like that. Of course we have the Shriners. This interesting group of old men ride their little cars down the road like they're sporting new Mustangs and never fail to go down to two wheels and drive in a circle right in front of us.
The fire department and police department make a startling appearance with their many emergency vehicles and for some reason think it's cool to blare their horns and sirens to the people standing 20 feet away. The babies cry and the dogs bark and howl. I hate this part, but in some masichistic way, it just wouldn't be the same without it.

Aside from all of the floats and groups walking past, trying to hold their smiles, ration their candy, and wave at the same time, my favorite thing to watch at this parade is the spectators. Once a year the entire community comes together to say hi and show some Bridgeton pride. A community that now has been torn apart by supposed "human progress" in the ever shady airport expansion, still comes together. In the earlier days it was to say, "we're here and we ain't leaving". Now it's to see the people who used to be your neighbors and find out where they've ended up.
There are the kids with grocery bag in hand, determined to single handedly fill the entire sack with candy, no matter how many two year olds get in their way. The men sit around reveling in the one day they can justify drinking beer and smoking cigars at 10am. All of the neighborhood dogs are straining on their leashes to say hello to each other, and sometimes manage to break away and chase a float, or God forbid, an actual parade participant.
There was one year when a certain young fellow from the Lifeguard float thought it would be funny to jump off the float to dump water on me. Well, when I jumped up to chase him with some water of my own, my 80lb lab mix without much sense, but a sweet sense of loyalty to me, decided to join in the chase. I stopped running and couldn't help but laugh at the sight of this young flirt running scared as my portly dog showed amazing speed, teeth bared, ready to bite his shorts off. Of course she was not successful in this chase, but that entire section of spectators forgot about the passing floats for a moment and all attention was on us. Once again, priceless.
I love the Bridgeton 4th of July parade. It was one of the landmarks of the summer. It marked a kind of half way point and it was just so much fun. Each kid gets antsy at about 9am and starts begging to just walk down there early. To get a good seat-just in case they're moving faster this year. Each parent grudgingly gives in at about 9:30, even though it's a ten minute walk down there. Kids ride in wagons sitting on top of lawn chairs and coolers. Those who are wiser drive and fight for a parking spot in the old Dariy Queen parking lot, which now is a bar.
As a child I thought the excitement came from the parade itself. Waiting, dying for the parade to reach our spot on the sidewalk, the same spot every year. Every child jumping up at the first siren audible from the police on motorcycles, leading the parade. I know now that the excitement that welled up in me then, and that still would today should we brave the omnious skies, is the comfort in the familiar, the faithful, and the somewhat sacred coming together of a community that raised me. A community and neighborhood that barely one childhood memory does not contain. Independence day celebration, community celebration. The community spirit is still free, even though the houses are gone. I guess as a child the parade represented that community being alive and well, and today it represents the spirit that still lives on without the houses to hold it.
Pretty pathetic nostalgia over a 5th class parade, but it's the parade I love for the country I love, with the people I love. What can I say. Priceless.